Weeping Wild Woods
by Eos Blaze 0402
Summary: Don't go in the woods. He's still there. He waits for you; you who'd set him free. Don't go in the woods. He's still there. They say he married everyday just to kill his brides at dawn. The woods weep. The bones of his wives sit below the water of the lake. When sun shines overhead, you can see those bones and hear his cruel laughter when wind blows. He waits for you in the woods..
1. Chapter 1

**Happy Birthday, Siberia21! This is for you, my friend.**

* * *

 _You were a pretty lady,_

 _but destiny you fucked me,_

 _gave me some stones when I deserved the pearls,_

 _gave me ugly instead of pretty…_

* * *

Prologue

'Why are you so sad, mama?' Little Elena Gilbert asked her mother as she was being tucked in her bed, beneath the gold satin coverlets.

Isobel Fleming-Gilbert discreetly wiped the moisture from the corner of her eyes, making sure that Elena would see nothing but smile on her face. She didn't want her tearful face to be the last memory Elena would have of her.

'I'm not sad, poppet,' she said easily as she sat on the side of Elena's bed, staring at her daughter's face, trying to remember everything she could.

Did you remember your previous life when you died? Isobel wanted to remember Elena.

Elena was the only thing, the only good thing that had come out of her and John's relationship and marriage.

'Where's daddy, mama?'

That question had been asked every night when Elena went to sleep, and every night Isobel had the same answer.

'Daddy's busy, Elena love.'

That lie left a bad taste in her mouth.

Isobel had met John in college and they'd been attracted towards each other instantly. She'd not known then that John was attracted to anything and everything with a pulse, a pair of boobs and a cunt.

She'd fallen in love with John Gilbert.

Now that she thought about it, she'd been too young to know what love really was. For her, it had been sweet smiles, kisses beneath bleachers and quick secretive shags in the broom cupboard. Now that life had taught her few things, now that she had some experience under her belt, she realized that what she and John had shared had been a case of attraction.

She, the utter fool had given herself over to John thinking that he was the prince of her dreams, when in reality he'd been the start of the whole mess.

Isobel was a proud creature, and John Gilbert had made a fool out of her one too many times.

'Mama?'

She looked at little Elena again. How she wished there was some other way than what she was about to do. She would never see Elena grow up, never see her graduate or fall for a boy. She would not be there to select prom dresses or take a million pictures when her princess came down the stairs in her pretty clothes.

 _Love made a fool out of you._

Or maybe Isobel had only known the foolish kind of love; love that was selfish and poisonous, that was obsession and possession. Maybe she'd only known the love that existed for shallowest of reasons.

'Mama, I wanna hear about beauty and the beast,' Elena said in her sleepy voice, her hands already curled beneath her chin.

Beauty and the beast.

Elena loved to hear about love, but today Isobel wanted to tell a different story to her daughter, a story that was seldom repeated in the homes of the Mystic Falls.

'What about a different story, Elena love?'

She knew Elena won't refuse. Little Elena saw the world through her naïve, idealistic eyes and so many things that couldn't exist, existed in perfect harmony for her.

'Is it gonna have a prince?' Elena asked seriously, her rosebud lips in a thoughtful pout.

'A king, love. This story has a king, and his palace and his beautiful queens.'

Isobel had never believed in fate, magic, curses and myths, but as the mother of the first Gilbert girl born in almost a thousand years, she'd some responsibilities— so called responsibilities that she had been entrusted with by her mother-in-law before Elena's birth.

In this day and age, it was ludicrous to believe that an ancient king was lying in wait for her daughter to set him free. When her mother-in-law had told her the story, she'd politely listened to the tale and then proceeded to ignore it as an old woman's dying delusion.

But now, her time was running out, and if the story had even a fraction of the truth, then Elena needed to know.

'Once upon a time, there was a king named Elijah…'

The late hours of night were disturbed by two gunshots that woke half of the Mystic Falls, and little Elena Gilbert.

She managed to get down from her bed in the darkness, her rabbit clutched safely in her arms. The creak of her ajar door when she slipped outside startled her, but she pushed the fear down and continued towards her parent's room.

Daddy was seldom home these days. But he'd promised that he would take Elena to Disneyland for her birthday. Her parents' room was undisturbed. The sheets were unlined, the coverlet was still folded.

 _Where were mum and dad?_

The light in the hall was on. Maybe mum and dad were fighting again, and one of them had dropped another vase. Mum and daddy fought all the time these days.

The marble surface of the stairs was cold and Elena scrunched her toes after every step. She wanted to run back to her room and burrow inside her covers to ward off this permeating chill. But she was already halfway down the stairs.

She looked back at the topmost stair longingly.

The bottom of the staircase was nearer, and on the plus side, if daddy was home, he could tuck her in for a change.

Decided, she laboriously continued.

She shouldn't have.

John Gilbert's brain was splattered on the dining room wall of the Gilbert Manor and Isobel lay nearby, her vacant eyes peaceful and devoid of the usual bitterness and self-hatred.

'Mama.'

Were mama and daddy playing? She shook her mother and in doing so the red of the blood that was still warm on the floor stained her hands.

'Colors, mama. Did daddy bring colors for me?'

She ran towards her father, her plushy rabbit forgotten near Isobel's head.

And it was John Gilbert's shattered skull from whence bits of brain peeked that instilled a sense of foreboding in her.

'Daddy?'

She cautiously moved towards her father. Why was daddy lying like that? Didn't his neck hurt?

'Daddy.'

John Gilbert was lying in silence, unmoving.

'Mama.'

Isobel didn't even blink.

'Daddy, I'm scared.' The first of the sobs broke free from her throat.

'Mama, wake up.'

'Daddy…'

The night averted its cruel face from such heartbreaking pleas, for even night couldn't stand the sight of such innocent tears.

As her cries grew sharper, another sound came from the forests surrounding the Mystic Falls.

A sharp laugh—a harsh sound—that somehow was reminiscent of a time of swords and might, and that which made hairs rise on the nape of the neck of whoever heard it that night…


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 1

 _Whispers in the dark,_

 _I go crazy when you call my name,_

 _Since the day I first heard your voice,_

 _I'm slowly going insane…_

* * *

 _'Elena, love…'_

She pressed her hands over her ears to drown out the sound of his voice.

 _'Lovely Elena…'_

She buried her head under her pillows in hope that she would no longer hear her name being drawled in the dark timbre of his voice.

 _'Elena, my love…'_

'Leave me alone!' she pleaded silently while trying to burrow herself beneath her covers, but nothing helped. His voice still resonated all around her as it had before.

She didn't know when it had started, but somehow it felt as if he'd always been there, in the dead of night, in shadows of her room, softly calling her name.

 _'Elena…'_

She knew the voice won't stop. Nothing she did could make it stop. Some days he was silent. Some days, she could almost sleep peacefully, but this was not one of those days.

Gingerly, she opened her tightly closed eyes and peeked out of her covers.

The room was in darkness.

And there was no one else!

She threw away the coverlets and let her body breath in the cool air blasting from the air conditioner. She was sweating like a horse, and yet she didn't dare to step a foot down from her bed.

She looked at her phone—it was only half past two. It was still a long way to morning.

She pulled her knees close to her chest and propped her chin in the hollow they created, wrapping her arms around. She knew she should call Jeremy or Aunt Jenna, but Elena was trying this new thing her friend Caroline had talked about—being brave.

 _'Elena…'_

She jumped and hastily looked around like a cornered animal.

There was still no one in her room.

'Please leave me alone,' she whispered, her voice almost on the verge of tears.

But she knew he won't stop till the first rays of sun bathed her room. She knew that until the moon kept shining, he would keep calling her.

Elena had always felt his pervasive presence.

After mum and dad's death, Aunt Jenna had shifted in the house with Jeremy, and Jenna had been everything young Elena had needed to heal. Jeremy had become her brother in the truest sense of the word, and Elena had thought that maybe she could forget the horror of her parents demise and move on.

 _But that was before he'd started calling her name in nights!_

In the beginning, she'd thought she dreamt him. The dark voice that carried over to her ears, the voice that uttered endearments, she thought he was nothing but a figment of her imagination.

But then she started hearing him while she lay awake in nights.

Aunt Jenna had taken her to numerous psychologists and psychiatrists—each one a renowned professional in their field—but no one had been able to cure her.

Anti-psychotics just made her dizzy, but they didn't block his constant murmuring. Sleeping pills kept her awake in nights rather than making her sleep.

There was no cure for her madness, for what was this if not madness?

 _'Elena, love…'_

'Please let me sleep,' she cried. 'Please, just let me sleep.'

She shook from the intensity of her terror and fatigue, but his voice didn't stop.

He kept on taking her name, over and over again.

 _'Elena…'_

 _'Elena…'_

 _'Elena…'_

'Why don't you kill me?' she shouted, jumping away from her bed. She stumbled as sheets tangled around her knees. 'Just kill me and be over with it.'

A slanting ray of the moon fell on the mirror that had somehow come uncovered. Aunt Jenna made sure that her mirror was covered every night, and yet somehow every day the cover slipped to expose the glassy surface.

She saw him sometimes in her mirror—the man whose voice haunted her every waking moment.

He was there in the glass now, staring back at her through mists and shadows, his glowing yellow eyes hypnotizing her as they always did.

'No. You are my imagination,' she muttered firmly as she closed her eyes. 'You're not here. You can't be here.'

 _'Oh, Elena…'_ There was a smile in his voice as if he found her amusing.

Moments of silence stretched, and in her naivety, she thought he was gone. Or maybe morning had come.

She opened her eyes.

But the moon was still shining, and when she looked into the mirror, he was still there.

She started shaking. The shivers took over her whole body.

She could never see his face clearly, only his eyes.

 _And those unholy eyes gave her nothing but nightmares._

'Go away,' she pleaded. 'Why don't you go away?'

There was no answer. There had never been any.

She looked around in her maddened state, searching for something that could make that mist and shadow disappear from her mirror. Her clock on her nightstand was the closest thing she could find.

'Go away.' It was a ferocious snarl, and with all her might she flung the clock in the direction of her mirror.

The sound of the shattering glass was followed by the hurried footsteps and the moment it took her to sink on the ground, Aunt Jenna and Jeremy were rushing in her room.

'Elena, it's okay. It's okay.' Jeremy's arms closed around her and he hugged her as tightly as he could, trying to calm her down.

Jeremy's parents had died in a car crash, and there had been no one else but Jenna to take him in. And when Jenna had come to Mystic Falls to look after Elena, she'd brought Jeremy too.

Jeremy and Elena were far closer than any siblings could be. She'd beat up Tyler Lockwood when Lockwood had teased Jeremy on the first day of the school. She'd taught him all about stars and constellations when his memories had kept him awake in nights.

She'd not been an overly happy girl, but she'd carved out slices of happiness from life for him.

'He won't go away, Jer. He never goes away,' she sobbed.

'I know, Elena.' He could do nothing but agree.

If god were real and had he dared to come in front of Jeremy Gilbert, Jeremy would have bloodied God's nose for giving nightmares to Elena. She was all things good, all things wonderful. She didn't deserve this madness, this illogical fear that she couldn't fight.

Jeremy remembered the sleepless nights of his childhood when he'd heard Elena pacing in her room till the sun broke over the sleepy Mystic Falls. He'd heard the quiet, tearful pleas through the walls. He'd heard the prayers from the bible, the chants of temples.

Sometimes he'd heard the uplifting beats of a pop song or gritty notes of a rock one.

He'd heard it all.

 _But he'd never heard the man who haunted her._

His sister was sick, and no one knew why.

No doctor, no healer, no shaman could tell why Elena was this way. They could never explain what happened to her once night descended after the end of the day.

Her tears were wetting his T-shirt as they always did in nights.

He looked around.

They were kneeling amid broken glass. This was the third mirror she'd broken this week.

Her hands were bleeding, but thankfully the cuts were only superficial.

'Elena, I'm taking you to bed, okay?'

He picked her up gently, her weight almost nothing in his arms. He could feel the bones poking from beneath her skin.

He looked over at Aunt Jenna and without uttering a word she walked out of the room to fetch the dustpan and brush to clean up the glass.

Sometimes, Jeremy couldn't understand how Jenna had given everything up to take care of two kids who'd lost their everything. He didn't know how she managed to get up in the morning to start a new day when she knew that it would always end in their helplessness and Elena's pain.

'Jer, am I crazy?' Elena asked softly from where he'd laid her on her bed.

'I'll make mincemeat out of the fucker who says that.' He applied the antiseptic on her cuts, gently moving his fingers so that she felt no pain.

She gave him a weak smile. 'I'm sorry, Jer. I'm sorry for—'

'Don't you ever say that, Elena,' he said fiercely.

'Come on.' She patted at the space beside her on the bed. This happened almost every night.

He put away the first aid box on her nightstand and moved over to sit beside her, his back propped against the headboard.

'So, what would you like to hear about today?'

It was their childhood ritual. It had started one day when little Jeremy Gilbert had run over to watch his sister crying in the corner. From that day onwards, he'd made it his routine to sneak in her room in nights. They would burrow under the covers and she would tell him stories.

They would drift off to sleep holding hands, and when in the morning he'd open his eyes, it would be in his own bed.

 _But these days, he was the one who told her stories._

Day by day, she was growing weaker. She no longer ate with the same gusto that she used to. She no longer slept more than an hour or two every day, and on top of that, she made it her rule never to miss a single class of High School.

Jeremy didn't need to be told how vicious high school gossip could be or how acutely it could hurt.

He knew how shadows that couldn't be hidden by concealers beneath her eyes were interpreted. He knew what they whispered behind her back in the corridors.

 _That Elena Gilbert was only a step or two away from the asylum._

'Jer? Where did you go to?'

He looked at her and gave a small smile. 'Just thinking about a fairytale.'

'Tell me,' she said excitedly.

'Won't it be better if I show you?' he asked with a pout. He'd started sketching stories for her, fantasies that she could lose herself into—fantasies where good won over evil, and someone always came to save the princess.

He moved to pull out the sketchbook that was always tucked carefully beneath her pillows. He never forgot to sketch a new story and leave it for her to find.

The happiness when she turned the pages outweighed the madness that took hold of her in nights, and in those precious moments, his sister was truly happy.

As night slowly gave away to the day, Jeremy Gilbert sat beside his sister holding her hand as she slept. He was no longer the same young boy, but a young man now. But his sister was still in pain as she'd always been.

Her windows still remained fastened against the night.

Her air conditioner still operated at full blast, and she still slept under layers and layers of fabric to ward off the monster only she could hear.

She still broke her mirrors and cut herself on the pieces…

* * *

'Elena, you can't do this!' Caroline's screechy voice was an indication enough that she was getting into the panic mode.

'I have to, Care. I can't see Aunt Jenna and Jeremy wasting away because of me.'

'But, Elena, the man only comes out after the sun goes down,' Bonnie said carefully.

'So, I will lie to Aunt Jenna and tell her that I'm staying over at Caroline's after school for some group project.'

'But, Elena—'

'No, Bon. I'm sick of being crazy, and I'm willing to do anything to end this madness.'

Bonnie, Caroline, and Elena had met on the first day of the pre-school and had struck the unlikeliest of friendships. Even through years, as slowly Elena's psyche had started disintegrating, Bonnie and Caroline had still never let go of the friendship pact they'd made at age of five.

Through thick or thin, through sane days or crazy nights, Caroline Forbes and Bonnie Benett had stood steadfastly behind Elena.

'What are you going to do about Jer? You know he'll come to check on you,' Bonnie reminded Elena.

Elena smile. That brother of hers had made it his personal mission to cocoon her in spun glass. Or try to.

'Then Bonnie is gonna lie to him.' She turned towards Bonnie. 'Aren't you, Bon?'

'Fine. If you've made up your mind, then I can't do anything to change it now, can I?' Caroline huffed. 'We better get moving then, the sun's almost below the horizon,' she said as she looked over at the sky.

Bonnie said goodbye before heading towards her car.

'Why does it have to be me, Elena?' Caroline whined.

'Because you've visited him, and Bonnie hasn't.'

The " _he"_ they were talking about was a mysterious man who lived deep in the forest of Mystic Falls, on the edge of the infamous pond. The pond was rumored to be created from the tears of doomed queens who'd been slain there a long time ago. Nobody ventured too close to the pond unless they were fools, homeless or someone who believed that magic could make their problems go away.

The man who lived on the edge of the pond made charms, charms that were rumored to be so powerful that they could do whatever their wearer had bought them for.

Caroline had wanted Matt to fall in love with her, and so she'd sneaked away in the night to the forest to ask for a charm.

 _Matt was now head over heels in love with her._

She'd not even told Elena and Bonnie the real reason about why she'd acquired the charm. She'd lied that it was for the success of the committees she chaired. As if.

Matt had never looked at her before she'd worn this delicate flower hanging from her bracelet. Matt Donovan's eyes had only stolen glances of Elena Gilbert's tired face.

 _Caroline had not even existed._

But now Matt had eyes for no one but Caroline.

'Care?'

'Do I need anything else than an apple and a bottle of water?' Elena asked.

Caroline shook her head. 'That's all he asks for. An apple and a bottle of water.'

'Is he old? What does he look like?'

'I don't know.' Caroline tore away from the parking lot of the school, taking the road that led towards the shortcut through the forest.

'What do you mean you don't know?'

'I mean he wears a hood, so I don't know what he looks like.' Caroline paused for a moment as she swerved left. 'In fact, no one knows what he looks like.'

'Not even your mom?' Elena's eyes were as big as saucers. Caroline shook her head in response.

Caroline's mom, Sheriff Forbes knew about everyone. Elena couldn't imagine that even Sheriff Forbes didn't know what this man looked like.

'He's like this collective secret of town. Everybody knows about him, but no one talks about him.'

'He might be…a serial killer,' Elena mused.

Caroline started laughing.

'Hardly. The man is ancient, Elena. He can barely walk.'

Elena settled silently after that, gazing out of the window, watching the trees fly by.

 _Could this really work?_

Caroline said everyone went to this man. It was just that they never did so openly.

By the time Caroline stopped the car at the side of the road, the sun had disappeared. The evening light made the forest look mysterious and a bit eerie.

 _'Elena…'_

She stiffened in her seat. It was _his_ voice again.

But…it was still evening. She closed her eyes in a panicked moment. How was she hearing him now?

'Elena, you've to get out.'

'Yes,' she muttered distractedly, her eyes looking around like a cornered animal.

She gingerly walked to the edge of the forest, constantly looking around, as if she was waiting for someone to jump up on her from the rapidly approaching darkness.

She looked back at Caroline who was standing against her car, looking at her as if she wanted to run over and drag Elena back. But Elena knew she'd to do this part alone.

Caroline couldn't go with her.

She clutched the straps of her bag tightly and took her first step in the woods she'd been forbidden to venture in all her life. She remembered the stories—the merciless king and his madness, a defiant queen and her love in the face of his rage.

She remembered her mother cradling her close while she detailed how the king must have looked like. Tall and strong, with a proud, aristocratic face and mad eyes. It was the last story her mother had ever told her.

So, Elena remembered.

She also remembered the warning—the promise that her mother had taken to never go in the woods, no matter what happened.

She whispered a soft apology to her mother as she continued on, _his_ voice still calling her name.

The trees were getting thicker, the smell of forest more permeating.

Her chucks crunched the fallen dead branches and withered leaves, making noises that startled her with every step.

' _At last_ …'

The word was so surprising that she stumbled, and found herself face first on the forest floor. His voice had been much clearer, and this time it wasn't her name he'd spoken.

No matter the fear, she couldn't curl up here in the forest and hope for the best.

She got up with effort, her hands covered with flecks of wet soil.

She looked down at her dirtied jeans. Aunt Jenna would never believe that she'd been only staying over at Caroline's for the project now.

And Jeremy—he would be ballistic.

She started her trek again, determination fueling her steps.

It was some time before she reached the pond.

It was perfectly circular as if someone had precisely carved out the banks from the rocks that were the edges. Wisps of grass grew between the fissures of the stones on the side she were standing, while the side opposite to her was Eden in comparison.

A lush tree stood on the opposite bank, its thick trunk covered with green moss. Its branches spanned wide, covered with dark green leaves. Small flowers bloomed here and there amid those leaves—fragrant flowers of deep red.

Red like the blood.

She shook her head. Where had that thought come from?

She really was going crazy…

There were steps that were cut into the rocks of opposite bank—steps that disappeared beneath the quiet dark water.

Her side was almost barren while the opposite one teemed with life. Vibrant colors and lush smells made up for the sinister character of the forest around her. Had she known this little heaven had been here all along, she would've sneaked into the woods a long ago.

She looked around for the man Caroline had described—the hunched hood wearer.

 _But there was no one._

What was she supposed to do now?

'Hello,' she said tentatively.

 _'Elena…'_

Her hands fisted as she tried to control her reaction to that sinister whisper.

'Is anyone here?' she tried again.

But only silence was her answer.

Had Caroline and Bonnie…

No. No, they won't go to such lengths to play tricks on Elena.

Maybe, the man didn't come out on Tuesdays?

Disheartened, she turned around and started to walk back.

'Where are you going?'

Call it a surprise, call it hope, but she turned around so fast that it felt as if she would strain her neck from the shock.

 _There he was!_

Standing beside the tree, stooped and covered from head to toe in a garment of deepest black—he was partially hidden in the fast approaching shadows.

'Hello.' She crept slowly to where she'd stood earlier. Should she go to him on the other side of the bank?

Caroline hadn't told her anything about that.

'What do you want?' he barked. His voice held a faint echo of irritation.

'I…I brought you an apple, and a bottle of water,' she said timidly.

This was what he demanded in payment for his charms.

 _What did he need the water for?_ He'd a pond at his disposal.

'You're one of those,' he spat. 'So, what ails you, dearie? Did the boy you love break your heart? Or does he not know you exist?'

'N…No'.

'So, what is it? I don't have the whole day!'

She took deep breaths and tried to control her shaking. The night was almost upon her, and she so desperately wanted this man to give her a charm that would make it impossible for her to hear _his_ voice.

'Can…can I come to that side?'

This gave him a pause, and he turned his head slightly as if he were assessing her. She still couldn't see his face as covered it was beneath the layers of smooth black fabric.

'Yes,' he said. She didn't know why, but that one word felt as if something monumental had changed, as if she was about to do something no one had ever done.

But she was only walking towards the opposite bank.

 _How hard could walking be?_

What Elena Gilbert didn't know that no one had crossed over to the other side of the pond. No one who'd lived, at least.

The grass that she trode upon had not been touched by human feet for at least thousand years. Had she not been wearing her chucks, the blades of the grass would've bloodied the sole of her feet. She could feel the man's gaze upon her, even though she couldn't see his face.

She was almost near the tree when he gestured her to stop.

'Do you really wanna come so close to me, dearie?' he chuckled. 'People will tell you it is not advisable.'

'I'm n…not s-scared.'

'Are you sure? No one has ever been this close. Usually, they stand there—' he pointed at the opposite side, '—and leave their offerings after I give them their charms. No one has ever come to this side.'

 _Had she committed a faux pas?_

It was only that it had seemed so weird calling this old man to her when she as easily could walk over to him.

She took one step, and then another, and then another.

He visibly relaxed as she neared. _Had he been holding his breath?_

Now that she was as close as she could get, she noticed that his hood had threads of dark red and silver running at the edges.

'Brave little bird,' he mused. 'So, what can I do for you?'

His voice…his voice didn't sound old. He…no, she was just getting dizzy.

This was fatigue, and nothing else. She was imagining things that weren't there.

'Little bird?' he prompted.

'I want a charm,' she mumbled.

'I know. If you didn't want one, you wouldn't be here.' Was it bitterness in his voice? 'What do you need it for?'

Could she tell this man what she wanted a charm for without sounding crazy?

'I…I hear voices,' she bit out.

He stilled. 'Voices?'

'I hear a man calling my name.'

'And what is your name, little bird?' he asked after a moment.

'E…Elena.'

'Elena?' He tasted it on his tongue, and her name rolled out in his smooth voice as if he'd always uttered it.

 _Smooth voice?_

She was starting to superimpose the man of her nightmares on this old man, which was very unfair.

'Oh, Elena!'

The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled. 'Are you sure you don't want to hear _his_ voice, Elena?' The man asked playfully.

Now that she noticed it, he was standing much straighter than he previously had been.

She nodded because she didn't trust her voice not to squeak.

'My apple, little bird.'

She hastily opened her bag to find the said fruit and handed it over to him. He turned the apple in his palm as if in the red depths of the peel he could see so much more.

'Why don't you try a bite,' she suggested.

He gave a hollow laugh. 'Why don't I do that?'

It was some time before he brought the fruit to the front of his hood. His continued examination was putting her on the edge.

'I washed it,' she supplied.

He chuckled before he brought the fruit close to his mouth and took a small bite.

 _He moaned!_

'At last…'

The phrase was so reminiscent of the voice she'd heard in her head that she couldn't stop herself from looking closely at him again.

He'd apparently finished the apple and was now in process of throwing the rind in the pool.

'Wait!' she said. 'Give it here.'

She wrapped the core in the tissue before dropping it in the plastic bag that she always kept with her.

'Oh, little bird,' he said strangely. 'Far worse things have been deposited in this pond than a mere apple core. Now, about that charm, come here, will you?'

He was patting the place beside him. He was sitting against the trunk of the tree on the forest floor. Surprisingly, fear was not the first thing that crossed her mind. This old man with his brusque demeanor was a welcome change from the people who tip-toed on eggshells all around her.

Elena managed to prop her back against the trunk as she took her place beside him.

'Now, tell me, little bird, does the man scare you so much?'

'Yes.'

'What does he say?'

'Just my name. He says my name all the time, and his voice doesn't let me sleep. When I look in my mirror, his yellow eyes look back at me,' she confessed.

He was silent after that, and she was about to turn in his direction when he asked for her hand. When he drew away, there was a thick rope of red pearls on her wrist.

'I'm sure you won't be bothered by the man now, little bird.'

'But I can't accept this!'

'Oh, little bird. It doesn't cost me a thing, you know. And it will make me happy if you accept it.'

She looked at her wrist and then looked back at him again.

'Thank you.'

She got up to walk away but turned abruptly.

'Can I come back tomorrow afternoon to see you again?' she asked, hope and apprehension warred in her voice.

'Make sure you're not caught, little bird.'

She bid him goodbye and started her trek back towards Caroline's car. She couldn't help but turn after every few steps to look back at the lonely old man who was still sitting against the moss covered trunk.

She kept looking back until the old man and the pond were hidden safely behind the curtain of darkness…

* * *

As soon as the girl was out of sight, the man threw off his hood.

There was no sagging skin, no gnarled bones in sight.

 _He was as beautiful as the day he'd murdered his last queen._

His face was what fairy tales were made of. Angular bones, proud nose, twin slashing dark brows that made his topaz eyes look even more intense, lips that had kissed scores of maidens only to leave them bereft in nights—he was the cruelest perfection.

He shed his cloak, his fingers unbuttoning the shirt underneath.

 _The girl was interesting._

And far braver than any of his challengers ever had been.

He'd known when he'd started calling for her, that one day or other she would come running straight to him, but it would take such a long time, that he hadn't taken into the equation.

He shrugged off his shirt, and mechanically his hands went to the fastening of his dress slacks.

It would take some time, but he would be damned if he let this girl… Elena, slip through his fingers.

After all, because of her, he'd been able to taste food after such a long time.

He could still taste the faint sweetness of apple on his tongue which was far more rewarding than the metallic taste of blood that he'd to imbibe to continue his existence.

He stepped out of his slacks, and as the rays of the moon made their way through thick forest cover to fall on the still waters of the pond, he stepped into the cold dark water that was as much his prison as he was its captive.

 _She_ had bound him to this place, to this specific pond—the pond that held bones of all his queens.

He smirked at that thought. In the end, nothing had been able to save _her_ from him, not her magic, not her guile.

Elena, he muttered her name out loud, and he found that he like how the vowels and consonants slipped from his tongue. He liked the girl. She'd stayed sane even in the face of his madness. The others who'd come before her had taken their lives to escape his deadly whispers.

 _Elena._

She would make a fine queen.

And an even finer addition to the bones of this pond…

* * *

Elena relaxed as she loosely clutched her pillow and adjusted it according to her comfort.

Jeremy had been furious, and rightfully so. She'd lost the track of time while chatting with the old man, and she'd not realized that three hours had already passed when she'd made her way out of the forest again.

By then Caroline had been sick with worry, and Bonnie had failed to lie convincingly to Jeremy. Her brother had been waiting for her on the edge of the forest when she'd emerged.

He hadn't said a word, just taken her bag from her and started walking towards his car.

He hadn't railed, hadn't demanded explanations until they'd safely been inside the house. And then his temper had exploded.

She smiled in the dark.

 _Jeremy was such a mother hen._

So far, so good. No one was murmuring her name in the heaven damned whispers yet.

Still thinking about forests, ponds and gruff old men, Elena Gilbert fell asleep at eleven with a smile on her lips.

And for the first time in years, she dreamed…


	3. Chapter 3

**Wish I were Julie Plec, so that I could make Elejah a reality…**

* * *

Chapter 2

 _He walks out from the shadows,_

 _darkness the kingdom he rules,_

 _they kneel when he passes_

 _to sit on his throne of fools…_

* * *

She walked alone in the twilight, the dead leaves making crunching sounds beneath her feet as she passed.

 _What was she doing here?_

She looked down and found herself clad in a diaphanous gown of pale white, the neckline plunging in front to frame her décolletage. It was a dreamy affair of lace and silk, of pearl buttons and a tight corset.

This could be nothing but a dream.

She didn't own clothing like this.

This thing that she wore was much more Caroline's forte than hers.

She raised her head to gauge the time of the day, and instead was transfixed by the orange and blue that bled together to make the sky a phenomenal example of a clever artist's brush.

Not even a cricket opened its mouth to belt out its tune, for it was the time when _he_ was out and about. And no one—no living or non-living entity wanted to incur _his_ wrath.

 _He?_

 _Who the hell was "he"?_

Dreams were such fuckall places.

In dreams, you knew things you'd no idea about.

Here she was, dreaming for the first time in years, and she should have dreamt about some exotic location and a handsome dude, but no, it was the same old, boring Mystic Falls forest for her, and this sense of certainty that she knew the man she was going to meet.

Her legs had a mind of their own, and they took her beyond this thick lining of trees that stood as sentries on both side of this pathway she walked on. They took her deep in the forest, beyond the safety of return, beyond the line she could still back away from.

Mesmerized, she walked on the path that only ever saw the man crossing its surface.

She could feel silence on her skin, like some cloak that covered and muted everything else; she could feel silence in the goosebumps along her arm, in her heartbeats that sped up.

There was something inhuman about this place, something hideous hidden beneath the appealing beauty of the surroundings.

The trees thinned as she continued walking, her sense of foreboding increasing with every step.

This was a dream, wasn't it?

So, why did she feel this irrational terror? Why did she feel as if she should run away?

Lost in her thoughts, she continued walking till she reached the clearing…

* * *

 _ **His muscles rippled in the fading light, sweat beading on the smooth skin.**_

 _ **The leather breaches clung to his strong thighs like a second skin, his boots making no sound as he moved across his opponent. The shine of the blade in his hand would have scared many a man, but not his opponent.**_

 _ **He determined her weakest points, finding none. And that pleased him.**_

 _ **It would be rewarding to defeat her.**_

 _ **He waited for her to attack. The slight movement of her feet had suggested that she was not the one to pace herself, but when she didn't move and her sword remained pointed to the ground, he was surprised.**_

 _ **What was she playing at?**_

 _ **Whatever the matter be, he wouldn't let his guard down.**_

 _ **He knew her, and he also knew the cost of his defeat.**_

 _ **Moments passed in charged anticipation, both of them circling each other like panthers ready to claim dominance until she could stay still no more.**_

 _ **She lunged on him, her wicked blade a silver glare in the bluish light of the clearing, hissing as it tried to score his flesh.**_

 _ **His sword rose in answer to defend, the obsidian blade clanking against the silver.**_

 _ **She pulled away only to attack again. Twisting and turning, it was a sinuous yet deadly dance she performed, trying to make him bleed, trying to earn her freedom. But he was no common adversary.**_

 _ **He was the war itself, the harbinger of death.**_

 _ **He was king of kings, necromancer supreme.**_

 _ **He was the gale that blew away flowers like her.**_

 _ **His sword blocked her every effort, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. His flicked his wrist, and his blade cut across her chest. She smelled the blood before she saw the red staining her white cloak.**_

 _ **Enraged, she attacked him again, only to be thrown backwards.**_

 _ **Quick like the gazelle, she moved away as his blade came down on her.**_

 _ **It was his favorite sport—stomping her hope of escape beneath his booted feet.**_

 _ **She somehow managed to stand again, but before she could take a breath, he was attacking her again.**_

 _ **She fought like a demon, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.**_

 _ **She couldn't deflect his sword as he cut her cheek.**_

 _ **The scream was in her throat, but it didn't pass her lips. He wounded her over and over again, enough to make her sword fall on the ground, and yet she didn't scream.**_

 _ **His furious eyes promised retribution as he threw away his blade and grabbed her by her neck.**_

' _ **Yield,' he snarled.**_

' _ **Never, sire,' she croaked.**_

 _ **His fingers tightened their hold, and his other hand plunged inside her chest.**_

 _ **She'd seen his anger consuming countless enemies as it scorched her every day.**_

 _ **His wrath was a dreadful thing—beautiful yet deadly. There was a certain enchanting quality in the way his sword came clean out of the back of the people who'd displeased him, or the heads that rolled far away from the torsos that they'd momentarily been attached to.**_

 _ **His blade always sang for blood, and when he couldn't quench its thirst from the blood of the enemy, he used her.**_

 _ **She was…her master's slave.**_

 _ **She could feel his fingers breaking her ribs from inside, searching for something that was not there.**_

 _ **Her heart.**_

 _ **He'd relieved her of it a long time ago. The day he'd enslaved her, he'd reached inside her chest and plucked out her beating heart. He'd looked at it in amusement before dropping it in the glass jar.**_

 _ **The glass jar he kept on his bedside table.**_

 _ **Her heart was his prized possession, the proof of his demonic heritage.**_

' _ **Yield, pet,' he whispered almost lovingly.**_

' _ **Never, sire,' she was steadfast in her reply despite the wince. He abhorred weakness like he hated nothing else. To show weakness in front of him resulted in a fate worse than death.**_

 _ **His hand came out of her chest cavity. 'This fire is what keeps me from killing you, pet,' he said as he dropped her. 'Or else what use man has for a woman except in his bed?'**_

 _ **She dutifully chose silence.**_

 _ **Everybody knew what happened to women whom master married.**_

 _ **She kept her gaze downcast when she felt him kneel in front of her.**_

' _ **Eyes on my face, pet,' he commanded softly.**_

 _ **She tentatively raised her face, her fingers curling in the soil.**_

 _ **Her master was a beautiful man. And in these precious moments when he let her look at him like this, she dreamt he were someone else.**_

 _ **She pretended he were simply a man caressing her cheek on the forest floor. That they were simply two people, two strangers who'd bumped into each other.**_

 _ **He had a regal face, her master. Dark slashing brows, deep brown eyes, a nose that was neither long nor short and thin lips.**_

 _ **Pink lips.**_

 _ **Attractive lips that almost always were twisted in some expression of cruelty.**_

 _ **He'd a wide forehead and a crisp jaw line. The slight hollows in his cheeks pronounced his cheekbones when he sneered. His dark hair had many shades of brown, and unlike other men, he kept his hair short.**_

' _ **Can't have your face marked by my cuts, can we, pet?' His hands moved over her cheeks as she felt the warmth emanating from his fingers. He was healing her, but only her face, so that he could derive the pleasure of cutting her again.**_

 _ **Tomorrow.**_

 _ **And again, the day after that.**_

 _ **And over and over again.**_

' _ **We march for the Orleania in a fortnight. Make sure you're well rested, pet. After all, we don't want Princess Carolina marrying anyone else but me, do we, pet?'**_

' _ **No, sire.'**_

 _ **Her bones had already started to heal. It would be a slow, painful process, but heal she would.**_

 _ **He left her sitting on the ground as he walked away.**_

 _ **Her tormentor, her master, her captor King Elijah…**_

* * *

Elena walked in the clearing with apprehension in her each step and her heart heavy with dread. The soil was dark brown, almost the color of dried blood. It felt familiar—the trees lining the almost circular clearing, the pale blue sky.

She'd not been here before, had she?

She would've remembered.

She'd never set a foot in the forests of Mystic Falls except for this evening, so she was sure that this was just a weird way of her brain telling her that she was still dreaming.

And what a boring and uneventful dream this had been.

She almost wanted to wake up, well almost because she was still unsure whether she would be able to sleep again if she woke up.

'You, there!'

She turned hurriedly in the direction of the voice to find a man standing beneath the trees, staring at her from the cover of fast approaching shadows.

She definitely didn't know him.

That compelling feeling inside her that she'd felt earlier, that déjà vu was gone.

'What are you doing here?' he asked gruffly.

'Well, I am enjoying my dream.' She could almost make out the shape of his body. He was wearing a sweeping dark cloak, his face hidden beneath the long hood and darkness.

'Dream?' he enquired suspiciously. 'I'll have you know, girl, I've stripped hide off the bones of humans for less, and you have the gall to answer me back while you're defiling my clearing?'

'I-I-I'm sorry,' she stammered. 'But killing humans is wrong!'

He cocked his head to one side as he examined her. 'Stumbled here, didn't you, girl?'

She nodded, afraid of what was to come.

'Then it's rude of me to terrorize you so,' he said. 'Would you like a tour of my forest?'

'Tour?' Monosyllables were all she could manage right now.

'Yes. I assure you, the beauty of this forest is unrivaled in twilight. Would you like to come with me?' He slowly came towards her, away from the shadows, into the bluish light.

He stretched his hand and she automatically put hers in his.

There were no more questions as he led her out of the clearing, away from the place that had seen only cruelty and bloodshed, the place that had been the witness of a man's callousness and a woman's unrequited love…

* * *

She could see the first stars coming out in the sky.

They seemed so near, as if she could catch them if she stood on her tip toes and stretched too hard.

They were sitting on the edge of a lake surrounded by trees—just like one she'd visited this evening—their feet dipped in the water as they looked up to sky.

'It is so peaceful here,' she said. 'Do you come here often?'

The man didn't answer her for quite some time and she thought he hadn't heard her.

'I come here every night.'

'Aren't you scared of the forest?' she asked.

He turned his cloaked face slightly towards her. 'Cowardice isn't in my nature as self preservation isn't in yours.'

'Try living with a mad man's voice in your head for almost your whole life,' she chuckled.

'Try loving a woman, who wasn't who you thought she was,' he snorted.

'We are a pair, aren't we?'

'Definitely not,' he hissed.

'What's got into you?'

'I might ask the same thing from you,' he said. 'Hasn't your mother ever told you not to follow strangers in dark forests?'

'My mum is dead,' she replied sadly. 'But yes, she did warn me to stay away from the forests of Mystic Falls. At that time, I thought she was telling me a story.'

'You should've heeded the warnings then, girl,' he said sinisterly.

Out of nowhere, the fog came and it started spreading. She could feel her feet beneath the water, but she could no longer see the glassy dark surface of the lake.

She turned towards him, the man who'd brought her here but there was no one.

 _Had she asked his name?_

She didn't know what his name was.

Everything started spinning in circles when she heard _**his**_ voice.

'Elena…'

A pair of gleaming yellow eyes came towards her amid the fog.

 _His eyes._

She thrashed, trying to get away from him but she was rooted on her spot. The yellow eyes came closer and closer still.

She would die in her dream.

But to her surprise, the cloaked man suddenly appeared out of nowhere and he seemed to be gliding towards the yellow eyes.

'Leave us be, demon,' he thundered, and Elena Gilbert found herself waking up on her bed to a new day, to the sun that peeked through the glass of her windows…


End file.
